Kitchen Promises (Riverside Trilogy, #3) (The Riverside Trilogy)

by Brooke Cumberland

“Oh.” I chewed my lip as I tried to recall the event.

  “Are you feeling alright?” He brought his hand up to my forehead.

  “I don’t think you can check my forehead for losing your mind,” I said seriously.

  “Sweetie, I think you need a hobby. You need to keep yourself busy besides watching chick flicks and reading smut.”

  “Like what? I’m on bed rest. Really doesn’t leave me many options.” I furrowed my brows at him.

  “I don’t know. You can still get involved. Start a pregnancy blog, or find a charity to get involved with via online, or write a journal.” I knew he was trying to help, but it just made me more depressed. “Anything but this.” He waved his hand up and down my body.

  “This sucks. I wanna see you sit around all day long and get your insides kicked around.”

  “No thanks, baby cakes. I’m good with my internal organs just where they are.” He smirked.

  I blew out a slow breathe, trying to think of something I could do to keep my mind occupied. Not only was I extremely bored, but also I had a lot of time—too much time—to think, over-analyze everything, and worry about the twins. I was five and half months now. They were doing well enough where I didn’t have to deliver early yet, but unless Baby B started developing at the right pace, I would more than likely have them earlier than expected.

  “When do I get to see the nursery?” I asked.

  “It’ll be done soon, I promise. You’ll love it. Shades of greys and yellows.” He beamed.

  “Greys and yellows? That sounds depressing.”

  “I promise, it’s not, okay? You gotta trust me.”

  I really didn’t have much of choice at this point. I had to make sure I was as stress free as possible and decorating a nursery would not be stress free. Michael pretty much took over the day he found out I was pregnant anyway, so I continued to let him do it his way. Plus, I had to admit, he had better taste than I did when it came to that stuff.

  “Fine, I trust you.” I smiled. He leaned down for a hug and quickly kissed me on the cheek.

  “I’ll run and get those subs for you, that’s if you still want subs?” he hesitated.

  “Yes, subs are fine. Thank you.”

  I decided to jump on my laptop as soon as Michael left. He was right. I needed to get involved in something. I needed to keep my mind busy.

  I looked around for ideas of what I’d be interested in when an advertisement caught my eye.

  Are you adopted?

  Can’t find your birth parents?

  Let us help!

  And then of course, for a hefty fee, you could track down your parents. It had me thinking, what if you couldn’t afford that kind of fee? What if the only thing stopping you from finding your birth parents was money?

  In a way, I was lucky to know the truth. Not having to feel like I didn’t fit in or belong because I knew who my birth father was, even if he didn’t. It was easy to find information on him considering he was one Internet search away.

  Although I wasn’t adopted, I could relate to wondering how my life would have been different had my parents picked a different file. Would I look different? Would I be athletic? Hell, would I be a girl? It’s easy to think these things when you know there was a choice. When it’s your parents, you know, you’re a mix of them—half you mom, half your dad. But I’m not. I’m half my mother and half Stanley. What if my parents never knew who their donor was, like most people? Would I view my life different, or just accept it as is?

  I was completely drowning in my thoughts, so I decided to search it some more. Every agency, corporation, or adoption attorney had a large fee—which was reasonable—but again, what if people couldn’t afford that?

  I wasn’t raised wealthy. I was raised to know that money didn’t grow on trees, but rather hard work and determination. I would never forget that either. I still had a hard time accepting that Drake has money—lots and lots of money.

  And then I decided. This would be my charity. This is what I wanted to do—help kids and their parents reunite. For free. I’d make it an online charity, people could donate for the cause to help with expenses, but it’d be primarily funded by me—Molly Woods-Stagliano. Well, future Stagliano.

  Parents who gave their children up for adoption could sign up as well as those who knew that they were adopted. It would have to be an extensive application and background information, but knowing Drake’s resources, it could be done. I’d have to get him on board of course, but with pleading eyes and a few forbidden kisses, I was sure I could talk him into it.

  After Michael and I had lunch together, I got busy making a website. The only reason I knew how to do any of this in the first place was Liam. While he was studying psychology in college, he had to take computer classes. In one class, he had to build a website for a pretend business. We both stayed up til 4am finishing it, making sure each detail was perfect. Liam was a perfectionist when it came to his schoolwork, which made me even more proud of him. He wanted the best for our family.

  I realized I needed a domain name. Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. I started thinking of words that might work. Hope came to mind. Yet, it just didn’t fit right for me. Nervously, I ran my palms up and down my thighs, willing my brain to think of something creative.

  And then I looked down. There it was the entire time. Perfect.

  So Project Anchor was born.

  Dual meanings—hope and unsinkable—just like my tattoo. It was meant for both Liam and Drake, two very important men in my life and two very important aspects in what the anchor symbol meant for me.

  Project Anchor meant that by remaining hopeful in finding your birth parents, your dreams are unsinkable. Project Anchor would help families reunite, find their identities, and hopefully, remain hopeful in their decision to choose adoption when they did.

  “Don’t let your past hold you down…

  Reconnecting adopted children with their birth parents.”

  I could never imagine giving Stella up for adoption. It wasn’t the right choice for us, but sometimes, wanting the best for your unborn child and giving them the best, aren’t the same thing. Sometimes you have to make a decision, that decision to give your child up for adoption in order to give them the best possible outcome for a better life.

  Perhaps it was just the thought of parents having to make such a hard choice or the hormones, but I began crying uncontrollably. The tears flooded out, damping my shirt along the way. I rubbed my belly, guarding my babies for my life. The sadness that overcame me could only be explained as pregnancy emotions.

  “Mom!” Stella’s loud squeal broke me out of my crying funk. She ran into my room and jumped on the bed. “Guess what?”

  I quickly dried my face and smiled. “What, baby?”

  “We had a substitute teacher today. His name was Mr. Hott.” She giggled. “And mom, he was hot.”

  My eyes must have bulged out of my face because they were suddenly dry. Did she just say he was hot?

  “Um…well, that’s quite the coincidence, huh?” I tried to play it cool, but inside I was ready to swipe her up in a hug and rock her to sleep like I did when she was a baby. However, she wasn’t a baby anymore. Apparently, she knew what hot was.

  “Yeah, Mackenzie said she saw him wink at me! Now all the girls are totally jealous.” Her smile was contagious, because although I felt like jumping off a bridge, I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face. She was just so…happy.

  “Wow…that’s a pretty crazy day you had!” I joined in on the excitement that she was having.

  “Yup.” She jumped off the bed and walked out, smiling.

  Well that was interesting. When the hell did my five-year-old start calling boys hot? Or rather…men?

  I decided to take a short walk downstairs to the kitchen. As long as I wasn’t feeling any discomfort, I was allowed to walk around the house a little. But if Drake and Michael had their ways, I’d never get out of bed except to pee.

  “You s
ure looked busy up there,” Michael announced. He was in the kitchen, digging through the cupboards.

  “Were you spying on me?”

  “I prefer to call it checking up on you. But spying works, too.” He smirked and grabbed a jar of peanut butter.

  “I’m sure you would.” I laughed. “And yes, as a matter-of-fact, I did find myself a new hobby.”

  “Thank god. You were getting on my last nerve,” he teased.

  “Likewise,” I quipped.

  “Well…tell me about this hobby.”

  I explained everything to him as he made himself three PB&J sandwiches. For a lean man, he sure could eat.

  “Wow…are you sure you want to do something so intense? I mean, I just figured you’d find a pregnancy community to chat with or something. Or perhaps a knitting group online.”

  I curled my lip up. “Knitting group? When have you ever seen me knitting?” I sat at the table, crossing my arms.

  “Well…never, I guess. But you know what I mean. I just don’t want you getting yourself too involved, and then have to choose once the babies arrive.”

  “Oh, you know the babies will have first priority. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a project on the side. I need to do something, Michael. I can’t just sit around on my now fat ass every day. And I can’t just be a mother, or trophy wife.” I rolled my eyes. I hated that term, but Michael had been teasing me with it ever since Drake proposed.

  “Hey, don’t diss the trophy wives. They’re hot as hell.”

  “For a gay man, you sure check out women a lot.”

  “I appreciate all God’s beauty, thank you very much.” He grinned. Didn’t surprise me.

  By the time Michael finished his three sandwiches, Drake walked in.

  “Well, evening sweetheart. Didn’t expect you down here.”

  “I do live here, you know?” He kissed my cheek as he set his work papers down. “Michael let me out of my cage. Don’t worry, he’s been babysitting me.”

  “You’re humorous, you know?”

  “I have a lot of time on my hands these days.”

  “Well, soon enough, you’ll have two babies in your hands. So enjoy it while you can.”

  Dammit, he had a point.

  “So how was your day?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Interesting. How was yours?”

  “Same, actually. I decided to establish a new project. I think you’d be interested in it, too.” Least I hoped he would, I’d need some of his resources.

  “Really? Do I even want to know?” he asked, chuckling. He turned his eyes to Michael for support.

  “Trophy wives gone bad!” Michael chimed in. They both laughed, while I sat back annoyed.

  “Okay, well obviously none of you take me seriously anymore. I’m just a big fat penguin to you, aren’t I?”

  “A very cute penguin,” Michael quipped.

  “Of course not, sweetheart. It’s not my fault. Everything Michael says makes me laugh.” I could tell he was being genuine. It was never boring anytime when he and Michael got together.

  “Well, I’ll tell you after dinner. What are you making?” I smiled, hoping he knew because I was starving now.

  He walked into the hallway and came back out with two brown bags.

  He set the bags on the kitchen table. “Hope you like Italian!”

  “Did you steal that from the restaurant?” I scowled.

  “It’s not stealing when I own it, love,” he mused.

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Oh, Blakely and Colin both say hi,” he said as he unpacked the bags of food. Michael went to grab Stella for dinner and to make sure she washed up.

  “Oh god, I miss her. I can’t believe I just said that. I actually miss Blakely.”

  “She’s your friend, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But it’s Blakely. Loud, obnoxious, Blakely.”

  Drake laughed. “And is that bad?”

  “Nah, it really isn’t, I guess.”

  I thought about her as we ate. Stella came down and joined us, giving Drake a full update on her day. He and Michael both spit out their food as soon as she told them about Mr. Hott.

  I shrugged as they both turned their eyes to me. Well, what could I do about it anyway? Crushing on her teacher…could be worse, I guess.

  * * *

  As the weeks went by, Drake and I discussed Project Anchor, and I was glad when he said he was on board. I needed him, but also, I was happy to be apart of something together.

  I had my check up early that morning. The doctor came to the house as usual, doing her normal checks on me—blood pressure, urine test, weight check. She also listened for the babies heartbeats. She pressed her hands into my stomach, feeling around for them. She always smiled so brightly when she dug around in my uterus, making it not only uncomfortable, but also extremely awkward.

  After a positive check up, I was dying for Drake to get home. I wanted him bad. I needed him bad. It’d been weeks since he let us get physical. He’d always torture me just enough to get off, but never let us go all the way. However, tonight, I was changing that.

  Not feeling sexy at all with the weight gain and swollen belly, I decided to put something sexy on. I figured it’d at least get me into the mood without feeling self-conscious.

  I begged Michael to go shopping for me. After a lot of pleading and promising to name one of the babies after him, he agreed. Of course, my fingers were crossed, and I had no plans to name our child after him.

  “Alright, sista, this is all I got for you.”

  He pulled out a tiny white, lacy string. At least that’s what it looked like to me. He then continued pulling out stockings and a garter.

  “Oh my god, Michael! I asked for something sexy and fitting. What is this?”

  “To be honest, I have on idea. I don’t normally do the whole lingerie shopping thing.”

  “I don’t even know which direction this goes on.” I held it in my hand, twirling it around to find a sizable opening. “This thing is never going to fit me.”

  “Sure it will. I’ll help.” He smiled devilishly.

  “You did this on purpose.”

  He didn’t respond, but his smile told me everything.

  After an hour of squeezing and barely breathing, Michael got it on me. It was tight as hell, but even I had to admit that it looked really hot on me, pregnant and all.

  “Thanks for keeping Stella in your room tonight.”

  “Sure…I’ll just pop in a dirty movie and she won’t know the difference when she hears all the moaning and screaming.”

  “You’re such a butthead sometimes.”

  “Butthead? Oh no, don’t use the big words.” He laughed.

  I rolled my eyes and laughed.

  “Oh my god! Don’t make me laugh, I’ll bust out of this thing.”

  “Hmm…” He took a step back and looked me over.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I defeated.

  “It’s missing something,” he pondered aloud.

  “Yeah…about three feet of fabric.”

  “Ah, I got it.” He quickly dodged into my closet and came back out. “Heels.”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Not in the least. Put these babies on, Drake won’t say a damn thing tonight except yes. Over and over.”

  “Okay, it’s freaky when you talk about our sex life.”

  “Yeah? It’s freakier when I have to hear your sex life,” he fired back.

  “Ugh. Okay, out now.” I pointed my finger toward the door. Drake would be home any minute. He had a late night dinner meeting; however, I was hoping to be his dessert. “Don’t forget your headphones!” I called out as Michael darted out the door.

  Less than a half hour later, I heard Drake come upstairs. I adjusted myself on the bed, so I was the first thing he saw when he walked in. I turned the bedroom lights off, allowing the city lights to shine in.

  He probably thought I was asleep, so he qui
etly opened the door and shut it behind him. He tiptoed to the closet and just as he was walking out toward the bed, I spoke up.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Molly? Did I wake you?” His voice was filled with concern and worry.

  “Nope. I have a special surprise for you.”

  He took a couple more steps toward me, giving him a full view of what was in front of him.

  “Holy shit, Molly! W-what are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to seduce my fiancé.” He stayed silent and didn’t move. “So…why don’t you come over here and let me?”

  “Molly, you know I want to, baby, but—”

  “The babies are fine. I’m fine. The doctor was here this morning, and she said we’re all healthy.”

  “Really?” He sounded hopeful. “She said you’re off bed rest?”

  “Well, no. But…she said for being six months pregnant, everything was looking really good. Still keeping an eye on Baby B, but otherwise, all good,” I answered with a hopeful smile, praying that was enough for him.

  “Sweetheart, listen. You gotta know that I want to. I desperately want to touch you and be inside you, but I-I just can’t risk it.”

  “There’s nothing to risk. We’re fine,” I said in a harsh tone. “Plus, she never said bed rest meant no sex. She said to rest, which I do. I do every damn day. So, one night isn’t going to hurt us.”

  He walked toward me, hitting his knees on the bed, and he knelt down in front of me.

  “Baby, I love you. And I want you so fucking bad, I promise. But—”

  I covered his mouth with mine, cutting him off. I was done talking. No more talking. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. I decided to take control.

  -----<>-----

  10

  Drake

  God, the sight of her. Breathtaking. Fucking sexy as hell. I needed willpower to say no, hell I could have all the willpower in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough. She was gorgeous. She was always gorgeous, but this time, she was more gorgeous than I had ever seen her.

  “Sweetheart…you need to let me be in control. You understand?” I demanded in a deep tone. If I was going to give her what she wanted, it had to be under my terms. I needed to remain in control, so I could stop if it were too much for her.